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Trash-Talking Ponies

, | Working | May 11, 2015

Manager: “[My Name], can you help that customer?”

Assistant Manager: “[My Name], can you get those wings? Remember, make three kinds from two bags.”

Me: “Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

(The oven begins to buzz.)

Assistant Manager: “[My Name], can you put price tags on these cups of chicken


Me: “Hang on; I’m trying to do four things at once here.”

Manager: “[My Name], can you take out the trash?”

Me: “Make that five things.”

Assistant Manager: “Heh heh.”

Me: “Anything else?”

Assistant Manager: “Yeah, I want a pony. No, wait, make that a unicorn!”

Me: “Well, [Local University]’s mascot is the Pegasus. I don’t know about unicorns, but maybe they have one of those there.”

Assistant Manager: “I don’t want a Pegasus; I want a unicorn! No, wait. I want Rainbow Brite’s horse! Ugh… that was one of my favorite cartoons and now I can’t remember its name!”

Me: “Well, s***, don’t ask me what it is.”

Manager: “…Starlite?”

(Our manager is a 39-year-old man.)

Me: “Ooookay, that’s it. I’m outta here. I’m outta here before I inhale some pixie dust or something.”

(I grabbed the trash cart and headed out of the department as both managers began cracking up.)

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